


Falling Feathers

by Solrosfalt



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ballroom Dancing, Demiromantic Asexual Protagonist, Dress Code: Pride Flags, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, MinPallaWknd 2020, Other Minor Character Appearances, this is a bunch of tropes hiding in a trench coat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24215689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrosfalt/pseuds/Solrosfalt
Summary: Tie marks have existed since humanity's first steps. Humans are not magical beings, and yet fate marks them to make a pattern of their soul. Most people carry on as usual, but for royalty, there are traditions to be upheld.
Relationships: Minerva/Paora | Palla
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Minerva/Palla Weekend 2020





	Falling Feathers

Minerva was born with the mark of a falling feather on her right collarbone.

Being a princess, this fact had to be hushed down and she had immediately been wrapped in cloth, not only to keep her warm, but to hide the mark for everyone but her parents. And that was how Minerva remained, covered all the way up to her neck and down to her ankles, for years to come. Steel armor or soft fabric didn’t matter, as long as no one saw what fate had decided for her.

Not even her parents relaxed enough to wear short sleeves around most people, lest they admit to the world that they share a swirl of autumn leaves from their shoulder down to their left wrist.

Tie marks were simply best kept secret in noble families—they were not easily replicable with ink on skin, but it was doable. And having someone conveniently kick down the royal doors and falsely flaunt how they and the king or queen or princess had the _actual_ true ties to one another… meant a lot of complications.

There were people who preferred to remove their mark permanently, because some unspoken fate shouldn’t have to dictate their choices for them—not that tie marks actually _did_ that. They gave the person with them a nudge in the direction of people who they may have an opportunity for a close connection to, but marks were not an all-knowing divine power.

Perfect matches still separated and found love in _other_ perfect matches or someone who didn’t match at all. People with different marks still fell in love or became friends, and people born with a multitude of marks found a close bond with many, and those without marks lived their lives just like everyone else. Humans were far too complex to be bound by one omnipresent rule that applies to all—and that was the beauty of humanity.

But for royalty, the mark could jeopardize too much, and tradition still stated that an heir find a matching mark if they have one themselves. Minerva thought of it as a hassle, but it was also part of her life, so she knew no other way.

Still, Minerva’s older brother had managed to get around that rule. When Michalis turned twenty, it was time for his matchmaking ball, and he had simply not engaged with anyone or downright offended them. He’d come out of the occasion free of any new connections, much to his own relief and their parent’s silent dismay.

So, it fell to Minerva to have a matchmaking ball to make her family proud. Which seemed like a major annoyance, as she preferred to perfect the way her axe split training dummies rather than parade around doing politics, but she kept it together for her parents' sake.

“Ties are confusing”, her mother had admitted to her with a smile. “But they hold such potential, you shouldn’t fear it. Imagine, I met your father at his! I was so nervous, but oh, the moment he chose me for his match… I realized true love is real.”

“Mom”, Minerva objected, putting her whetstone down from the edge of her axe. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh right, right, romance is not your thing… I get it, sweetie!” Her mother smiled and gave her the polishing cloth that she’d used to clean her sword. “Just come out of the ball with the goal of finding a few friends and enjoy yourself!”

Those might have been empty words, because the pressure for it to be something else was ever-present, but making friends sounded at least _possible_. Minerva was pretty sure she didn’t care for romantic connections, and she _definitely_ didn’t care for whatever the awkward lessons at the academy had wanted to teach their youth. Her fellow students found it terribly exciting and whispered and giggled with one another, which was fine, but Minerva had stared dead-ahead and wanted it to be over.

Much like she guessed she would during the grand ball, but she had no other alternative.

She practiced her dances with her sister Maria excitedly watching. She let the seamstresses take her measurements and create the suit she’d chosen. She sparred with her mother (to not get too bored), and walked with her all over town to find the perfect materials for her shoes.

Flower arcs and banners were put up in the ballroom months in advance and cared for so that they wouldn’t wither or dull, and the archway leading up to the grand feast hall was polished to perfection.

When months turned to weeks, the tables were put in order and the food prepared, with poached eggs and moonlit vine-sauce and sparkling fairy fish caviar being set into the ice rooms to be picked out on the special day.

When weeks turned to days, the guests came from both neighbouring noble houses and faraway kingdoms, an opportunity to flex Macedon’s best to the world.

And it was supposed to be Minerva standing there as the crown on an overly pompous cake.

\---

When the day came, the capital was filled to the brim with guests from all walks of life. And as the musicians practiced their dozens of songs over and over down in the ballroom, Minerva stood in a maid’s chamber, ready to walk out in an hour or two.

Minerva watched herself in the mirror or stared out the window. Her cue to enter the ballroom and walk down the stairs approached, and her mother fussed about and made sure she looked impeccable.

Tradition required for the match-seeking noble to wear white, and Minerva had chosen a cloak that reached the back of her knees be the white part, and her pants to be the same color but with a silvery sheen. Her chest was covered by a black shirt with a neckline by base of her chin, as it should be, and a sharp grey jacket on top that cut the black like a triangle down to her belly. Her mother had wanted a pop of color, and so Minerva picked out a green sash to tie everything together.

“You’ll knock them all out”, her mother giggled, and Minerva had to admit she looked all right. She was more used to seeing herself in armor or simple black and brown training garments, but this was a nice compromise.

The door to the small chamber opened, and Maria stood in the doorway, beaming like a tiny sun.

“The guests are coming”, she said and jumped in place, still holding on to the doorknob. She stilled, hugging the door and grinning wide. “You look handsome! I bet someone will faint!”

“Let’s hope not”, Minerva smiled back and crouched before her sister. The hem of her cloak nearly brushed against the floor. “It’s enough to deal with the spotlight as is.”

“You’ll do absolutely fine”, her mother reassured her, then slipped past them and looked both ways in the hallway. “Should be any moment now, if the guests are here. Let’s get you to the entrance to the stairs, sweetie.”

Minerva took a deep breath and straightened. She walked past Maria with a quick ruffle of her hair and let herself be led to the grand doors before the balcony overlooking the ballroom. There was a murmur of voices from the other side of the door, and Minerva felt her gut twist.

 _Just find a friend_ , she thought to herself. _Just one. Make your parents proud and stick it to Michalis._

The music swelled, overpowered the murmurs, and the doors opened.

“Good luck, sweetie”, her mother whispered, and in the next moment, Minerva was alone.

The balcony extended across the ballroom, upheld by smooth pillars of marble, and with a wide sparkling stair leading down to the floor. All of it there for her, and none other. The scene where she’d begin her performance.

It was fine. She’d practiced this walk with Maria – but then there hadn’t been a hundred people all with their eyes on her. The guests were polite enough not to point at her, but the air in the room shifted, its attention pinpointed onto her and her alone.

She stopped by the height of the stairs, bowing toward the onlookers and raising her hand in greeting.

“Princess of Minerva of Macedon bids you welcome”, the overseer called out into the crowd. And as Minerva had practiced, she began her descent with her head held high, but her eyes darted over the crowd.

When her parents had asked her if she preferred any particular genders to participate, she’d simply shrugged. Didn’t matter to her, and so the invitation was open to anyone with the chosen marks. Anyone who wished to could apply for the chance of entering the ball, but only three or four marks were chosen. One mark was the same as Minerva’s, the other ones were a smokescreen.

She spotted a few with the coil of a snake on their cheek, a tangle of ivy on the side of their throats, dots of flowers on their wrists – so far, none with a feather over their right collarbone.

She reached the end of the stairs, and had a moment to think ‘ _what now_ ’, before the overseer once again shouted into the crowd.

“And so, the ball begins! Please do not crowd her Highness, and do not misbehave, or we’ll have to throw you out.”

That was fair enough. Minerva might be able to throw some of them on her own, but she wasn’t looking for a fight. She just wanted this to go smoothly.

The music quieted down a little, and as was custom, the guests didn’t approach her unless approached first. They turned to their own little groups and mingled among one another, just hoping the princess would pay them mind.

 _Just breathe_ , she told herself, but that wasn’t much help. Her first hour had her near tears. It wasn’t the fault of the people there, but even though she was in her home, she felt homesick. She couldn’t simply run up to Maria and giggle at the guests with her, and she couldn’t sneak away to play cards with Michalis, and her parents, while present, were more like hovering spirits and nothing like company at the moment.

She had a purpose, and she tried to uphold it. The first lady she danced with had ivy on her throat and violets in her golden hair.

“Such perfectly charming architecture”, the lady babbled at her. “Your home is quite cozy, your Highness!”

“Thank you”, Minerva answered awkwardly. “I think so too.”

The light blue of the lady’s dress swirled. “I am of house Goldrain, you see, and our home – while not _quite_ as remarkable – is still upstanding and noble. In fact, my mother served the Zofian king for almost thirty years, and my brother serves the current queen as we speak!”

Minerva had nothing to answer to that, and as the dance ended, the lady Goldrain had found herself a fellow ivy-marked woman in pink and blue and with a white sash over her waist. Minerva let them both be, and took the hand of whoever was closest to her, and then the next, and the next, and the next, and they all blurred together. She forgot them as soon as she let them go, her mind unable to keep track as she attempted a different tactic and moved toward a corner and picked whoever seemed interesting.

It happened to be one with his mark covered up, so most likely royalty himself. He wore a cloak with the colors of the sunset, of blue and red merging together. He was quite short compared to her, and his smile was soft and kind.

“Thank you for the dance”, he began their conversation as they swayed over the floor. “My name’s Marth.”

“Prince of Altea”, Minerva nodded. “I know of you. Your sister kicked my brother in the shin at his matchmaking ball.”

Marth flushed. “Ah”, he said. “We’d hoped your family had forgotten.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned it, but it was too late now. After dozens of similar conversations and no time to think of a good response, she simply said what popped into her head.

“It was no fault of your sister”, she explained. “I quite admire her for it. My brother was purposefully rude to avoid having this kind of spectacle repeated for him.”

“Right”, Marth said. “I understand this kind of thing can be… overwhelming. My ball will be held in a year, and I’m not sure how much I look forward to it. I like people, but I’m not fond of crowds.”

She nearly stepped on his cloak, but managed to steer away, almost bumping into a girl with long chestnut hair.

“I kind of agree with my brother that the whole thing feels unnecessary”, Minerva said, trying to look unfazed by the disruption. “How am I to find something meaningful here, when all everyone wants to do is grovel for a crown, and not for me?”

“I would not say that’s what _everyone’s_ like”, Marth answered thoughtfully, a small frown on his face. “I believe many are here with an open mind. Some are just here for the food, I think.”

Minerva could not help smiling. “I appreciate your honesty. But how does one find the open-minded ones?”

“I have no idea”, Marth smiled back. “Simply put your faith in them, I suppose.”

The song neared its end, and they separated and bowed to one another.

“I will see you around”, Minerva told him, and it was the friendliest she’d been with anyone thus far. Marth disappeared into the crowd again with a smile, and that made Minerva feel a little bit less tense.

She spotted her parents whispering to one another and grinning at her, and she could guess that they were already considering the ball to be a success, simply because this time an heir to Altea _hadn’t_ kicked their child.

It wasn’t a tough standard to beat, but still.

She walked with surer steps, and while the crowd remained a blur, she no longer hurried to grab the hand that was closest to her. She now tried to ignore the marks of those she passed, listened only to her gut.

And perhaps she dared to have just a little bit of faith, because when a servant nearly tripped, there was a woman who caught him without care for how the cider stained her dress.

She wore her bright green hair in a braided crown, with loose strands falling over her ears, and her posture was strong as she helped the servant to his feet.

Her dress had been in similar colors to Marth’s, like a red horizon over a deep blue ocean, but with cider spotting her corset, there were dashes of pink and light red over her collar. Minerva stretched her hand toward her, and it was only then that her mark caught Minerva’s eye.

“A feather”, Minerva smiled at her. “It suits you. Would you honor me with a dance?”

She hoped she wasn’t as awkward as she sounded, but if she was, this woman was forgiving.

“I believe the honor would be mine”, she answered with a courtesy.

They stepped out on the floor, joined the myriad of other dancers whose face’s Minerva couldn’t differentiate between. She kept her eyes on the lady before her, ans she lifted the hem of her skirt, and they began their dance.

How could Minerva claim to get to know anyone in just the span of a few precious minutes? Every thought she had, she’d already said before. And out of everything she’d tried, nothing had felt right. Minerva wasn’t sure what people expected her to be, but she’d faced both surprise and disappointment already.

But maybe she didn’t have to cram every word into one minute. Maybe it was enough to simply dance, hands together and faces close, and chuckle apologies with every misstep.

“They don’t teach us much of this in the academy”, the woman smiled at her. “One would think swords and lances would make us nimble enough to adapt to this, but it appears not to be the case.”

“A soldier, then?” Minerva mused.

“Knight in training, Your Highness.”

“I see”, Minerva answered. “I’ve long wished for that training myself. Whenever I spar, the world becomes free of complications.”

The woman smiled wide at her. “So it does! There’s such freedom in how you can make your body move without thought...”

“Although the art of the axe hardly translates well to dance”, Minerva smiled sheepishly. “I’ve practiced hard for this, and yet I’d argue that you’re my better.”

“You flatter me”, the woman smiled, and narrowly avoided stepping on Minerva’s toes. They chuckled over it at the same time.

The song was coming to an end. The sunset-dressed woman bowed to her, and Minerva bowed back, but she would not go searching for anyone else. Two minutes was far too little time.

“What is your name?” Minerva asked her, holding on to her hand.

“Palla”, the woman answered, and made no attempt to pull her hand back. “And yours?” She seemed to realize her mistake the moment she spoke, and a flush spread over her cheeks as she brought her other hand to her forehead. “I mean, I _know_ who you are, obviously, I’m just—never mind.”

Minerva gestured toward the edge of the hall, smoothing over the little slip to avoid causing Palla any undue awkwardness. She merely smiled at her.

“Well then, Palla, would you like to walk with me to the balcony? I feel the need for some fresh air.”

“I’d be glad to accompany you”, Palla answered, and her flush remained.

As they slipped through the crowd, Minerva spotted Marth again, being asked to dance by a blue-haired lady with a dress of light red and bright yellow, who had more than a few eyes on her. Minerva was relieved about that woman drawing attention, so that Minerva herself could slip out almost unnoticed.

Her parents would faint if they saw her, sneaking through an abandoned hallway and toward the balcony overlooking the capital made for royal speeches and appearances, but Minerva didn’t care about that. She didn’t care about dances or tradition, she wanted _more_ _time_.

Minerva pushed the doors open, and held them for Palla.

“Oh, the view”, Palla gasped and put her hands on the marble railing. “Oh, it’s—it’s wonderful!”

Minerva rested her arms on the railings as well and smiled down at the city below them. It was getting dark, and the windows of every house twinkled like the stars in the skies above.

“It’s one of my favorite spots”, Minerva said.

“Is it really all right for me to be here?”

“My parents might want for me to go back in there”, Minerva shrugged. “But other than that, there’s no problem. What they don’t know won’t harm them.”

“I can hardly imagine what it must be like to have so many eyes on you”, Palla nodded thoughtfully. “In truth, I don’t love the idea of extravagant matchmaking balls very much.”

“Do anyone?” Minerva grimaced at her bitterness, and shrugged again. “I don’t know many other options. I’ve known I had to do this, and while my family supported me, it’s still felt more like a duty than anything worth celebrating.”

They were quiet for a while, merely watched the small dots of light below them.

“I can’t assume to know what it feels like”, Palla sighed and rested her head in her hand. “But I’ve been to five of these balls as a candidate, and that too felt like it was forced upon me. I never had a single glance my way. I’ve always felt like knighthood was my true calling, so I couldn’t be _sad_ about it… But it seemed so shallow and hurtful nonetheless. Although dancing with you was nice.” She smiled with a glance on Minerva. “Thank you for taking me here, Your Highness. It was very kind of you to pay me mind.”

She was polite, and she kept Minerva at an arm’s length, and it was a special kind of frustration in how Minerva feared for it to remain thus. Maybe she had to do it. Take that leap of faith.

“Of course I would”, she said. “I looked to you and saw something quite extraordinary. I’d rather spend the rest of the night out here with you than dance with another stranger. The nobles on those other balls must have been fools. You have the air of a friend about you, and I hope that’s not strange of me to say.”

Palla laughed, her eyes still set on the town. “A friend”, she repeated, amused. “This was not how I expected my night to go, Your Highness. I thought I’d be living through another nightmare of shallow smiles, and now I don’t quite know what to do.”

Minerva didn’t know how to answer to that, and they were quiet once again. The music was distant, and the lights from the feast just a few windows away cast a phantasmagoria of frills and movement on the courtyard.

“You could stay for a while, if you wanted to”, Minerva offered, and it felt absolutely mindboggling to speak those words. They were reserved for just one, and after having danced with everyone with a matching mark – but Minerva didn’t want to. This was enough. This had to be enough.

Palla looked at her with wide eyes. “Are you… Are you asking me to be your _match_?”

“No, I meant—” Minerva dug her fingers into her own hair, trying to brush her nervousness away. “I want to forget about marks and such for a moment – I went through with all this because I wanted a friend. A romantic match… might not be my thing at all.”

Palla was silent for a few seconds more, her mouth a thoughtful line. “It’s very sudden”, she said. “The system demands it so, I know, but I… I really never thought I’d be asked such a question. I have a sister back home, and I cannot stay. I need to make sure she hasn’t burned our house down. Me and my other sister will leave at midnight.”

“Oh”, Minerva responded. “I see.”

Palla had pulled herself away from the railing, adjusting her braided crown. Minerva had never really connected with many people before, and the thought of letting this hint of a bond be broken by distance and time was a sorrowful one. But what stopped her from carving her own destiny?

“If you would like”, Minerva began, “could you come by the royal training grounds and spar with me sometime? State your name to the guard at the western gate sometime in the afternoons. I could teach you the axe. No system pressuring me to pressure you, just two weapons and a whole lot of dirt.”

Palla laughed quietly. “My, that’s an offer I cannot refuse. I would love to, Your Highness.”

When midnight struck, Minerva had returned into the flurry of people, and she kept dancing until morning’s first light.

And she’d realized that there were not many others there with a feather on their collarbone. And those that did, none compared to what she’d seen in Palla.

She was all danced out when dawn lit up the sky, and she unceremoniously announced that she chose no one. Then she simply slipped back up the stairs, bowed to the crowd, and left.

\---

She slept for the better part of the day, retold the experience of the night to Maria (and Michalis who just happened to be at the same table and pretended not to be listening in), and was honest about the lack of connections to her parents, who were still over the moon that their daughter had gone through a full night of dancing without offending anyone the way Michalis had.

So, she still beat him, although she was convinced that whenever it was Maria’s turn to step down those stairs, she’d be the true pride and joy of their parent’s ambitions. Maria could charm a wild bird to land on her shoulder, so handling a few nobles wouldn’t be a problem for her.

But that was in a distant future that Minerva preferred not to think about. Today, she simply breathed the fresh air and walked down to the training grounds alone.

And she practiced alone, for three hours every day in the afternoon. For many days, she remained on her own, but then came the day when the sky was so open and blue, and a figure hesitantly stepped in through the western gate.

Her forest green hair was in a simple braid this time, and her dress were changed to a plate of silver steel over her chest and chainmail over a green tunic.

Minerva smiled at her, opening her visor, and Palla smiled back.

\---

It was three years after Palla had gained her knighthood that Minerva realized that perhaps she liked having Palla around in a different way from how she loved her family and other friends. She’d been given a station at the castle, and guarded the gates and the hallways, and Minerva sought her out just so their gazes could meet and they could smile at one another.

It was a distant thing, and present yet. It was slow and growing and _everywhere_. It was Palla lifting her hand, an iron ring on her finger, and placing it on Minerva’s cheek when they weren’t seen to brush off a speck of dirt.

That no, Minerva didn’t typically fall in love. That yes, maybe there could be exceptions.

And that when the two of them were alone one day, Minerva no longer doubted herself. She wasn’t going through the official channels or standard procedures for how royalty were to expose their greatest secret, but also she didn’t care. She didn’t want a stamp telling her she was ready, she knew she was.

Like she’d never done before, she carefully removed the first layer of her clothes, the ones that covered her neck and collarbones, and while her heart hammered, she wasn’t afraid. With Palla’s wide smile and thumb carefully brushing over the falling feather on her chest, how could she possibly be?

Matches and marks were complicated things. Sometimes they worked like prophecy, and sometimes they didn't, but when the hearts of two secret beloveds had chosen with faith unwavering, whether or not divine intervention wanted it so was inconsequential. To Minerva, this was enough. The sky was open and blue, and there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> pride flags everywhere yeehaw


End file.
